Cirrus@Austlit

'There’s something stimulating about seeing into other people’s houses. We’ve all glanced through an open window or door as we pass by on our walks. Seen the old retriever slumped in the doorway, the clutter, the gaudy furniture, the bad renovations; it’s always just a quick glance. It’s no surprise but still uncanny that we live so close together, on top of each other, separated by thin walls and floors, and yet, what goes on in the interiors of our fellow suburbanites’ houses remains mostly a secret. Imagine you were a working-class mother who regularly cleaned these houses. What stories would you tell yourself about the inhabitants as you fluffed up their cushions and scrubbed at their skid marks?' (Introduction)